unusual in the Southern parts of Europe) would almost make one suspect,
that nature herself had been exhausted in raising such an immense pile,
which, as if it were the back-bone of an huge animal, was made to hold,
and bind together, all the parts of the western world. There are, I
think, nine passes over these hills into _Spain_, two or three of which
are very commodious, and wonderfully _picturesque_: others are dreadful,
and often dangerous; the two best are at the extremities; that which I
have just passed, and the other near _Bayonne_; the former is not only
very safe, except just after very heavy and long-continued rains, but in
the highest degree pleasing, astonishing, and wonderfully romantic, as
well as beautiful.

At _Boulon_, the last village in France, twelve long leagues from
_Perpignan_, and seemingly under the foot of the _Pyrenees_, we crossed
a river, for the first time, which must be forded three or four times
more, before you begin to ascend the hills; but if the river can be
safely crossed at _Boulon_, there can be no difficulty afterwards, as
there alone the stream is most rapid, and the channel deepest. At this
town there are always a set of fellows ready to offer their service, who
ford the river, and support the carriage; nor is it an easy matter to
prevent them, when no such assistance is necessary; and I was obliged to
handle my pistols, to make them _unhandle_ my wheels; as it is more than
probable they would have overset us in shallow water, to gain an
opportunity of shewing their _politeness_ in picking us up again. The
stream, indeed, was very rapid; and I was rather provoked by the
rudeness of the people, to pass through it without assistance, than
convinced there needed none.

Having crossed the river four or five times more, and passed between
rocks, and broken land, through a very uncultivated and romantic vale,